134 VALLEY LEADING TO LOS ANGELES.—COCOMONGA.—CAHUILLAS. 
drizzling rain yet falling, covered and frequently concealed the top of the Sierra. But near 
the base were forests of trees uniting with smooth grassy slopes, and bright green patches of 
wild oats stretching far down into the valley. Issuing from ravines among the mountains were 
several turbid streams, whose existence depends upon the rainy season. Some of them were 
already difficult to cross. Leaving the immediate base of the mountains, we entered the great 
grassy plain which inclines gently towards the south, where, many miles distant, there seems 
to be the trace of a permanent stream flowing westward nearly parallel to our course. The 
intermediate plain contained numerous herds of horses and cattle grazing upon the immense 
sheet of tall and luxuriant grass. It was variegated with an abundance of bright flowers, and 
much of the shrubbery that lined the numerous streams coming down from the mountains was 
in full bloom. 
At length, after a march of twenty miles, we arrived at the rancho of Cocomonga, and 
encamped upon a pretty stream that waters it. The house of Señor Prudhomme, the owner, 
stands upon a grassy knoll, and had been visible nearly the whole day. Below it are cultivated 
fields and vineyards. The rivulet is fed by permanent springs near the base of the mountain, 
and after fertilizing a considerable extent of the valley, passes among some low hills to join 
the Santa Ana. 
We are told that the rainy season is now in full vigor, giving showers every day. When- 
ever the air proceeds from the mountains, it comes saturated with moisture. Coast breezes are 
followed by pleasant weather. 
March 19— Camp 150.—Several mules strayed yesterday morning, and were not missed until 
night. We agreed to rest here for the day, in order to allow the herders to go back for them. 
They set out at daybreak, and at dark returned quite successful. The animals had been found 
where they were left, undisturbed by any of the mountain robbers. But we are told here that 
the settlers deem it necessary to watch their herds with as much vigilance as if they were 
upon the prairies, in the midst of wild Indians. 
Our camp is near a rancheria of Cahuillas, who appear to be peons of Cocomonga. With 
them is an old Indian, dressed in an entirely new suit, in the style of a California ranchero, 
and he professes to have come from José Antonio, the general-in-chief of the tribe. His object 
is to learn from us, officially, whether the Californians have told them the truth in saying that 
Santa Ana was on his way hither to drive the Americans from the land. The old fellow said 
that he was not a Cahuilla, but a Christian, because, when a boy, a priest at San Luis Rey took 
and converted him. After the missions of California were broken up, he returned to his own 
people under the government of General José Antonio, but he declares that he has lost none of 
the doctrines taught by the padres. As he spoke Spanish, we were enabled to obtain a vocab- 
ulary of his native tongue. When questioned regarding the religion and traditions of his 
tribe, he became very cautious, seeming to think that we might have some sinister object in 
view. His people are a filthy and a miserable-looking set, and great beggars, presenting an 
unfavorable contrast to the Indians upon the Colorado. 
During the day there has been a constant succession of April-like showers, with bright sun- 
shine between. A rainbow at sunset promised fair weather for the morrow. 
In the storehouse of Mr. Prudhomme we found many barrels of wine, manufactured from his 
vineyards ; but it was new, and not pleasant to our taste. The hedges around the gardens 
were formed of huge cactuses, growing twelve to fifteen feet in height. The leaves, or, as they 
are more properly called, joints, are about a foot and a half in diameter. This variety of 
cactus is probably not native, but imported from Spain by the Jesuits. It bears a purple fruit, 
called tuna, much prized for food by the people of this country. It somewhat resembles a large 
plum. 
March 20—Camp 151.— We prepared this morning for an early march, and found the promise 
of the rainbow fulfilled. The atmosphere was soft, serene, and fragrant. At sunrise a dense 
fog rose from the valley, and hung upon the side of the mountain of San Gabriel, seeming to 
encircle the peaks; leaving the tops visible, several thousand feet above the plain. 
